


Food for thought

by Original_Cypher



Series: Teen Wolf drabbles (mostly gonna be Sterek) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, can be read as preslash or established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/Original_Cypher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles cooks. It's something Derek enjoys profoundly. It's not that he does cook himself or can't, it's just... Stiles has <i>inspiration</i>. Derek has trouble thinking of something to break the routine. Stiles will waltz in the place, freshly arrived from campus and declare 'Tonight, it's chicken parmesan!'.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>In which there's a lot of mentions of food. Except it really isn't what matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food for thought

Stiles cooks. It's something Derek enjoys profoundly. It's not that he doesn't cook himself or can't, it's just... Stiles has _inspiration_. While Derek has trouble thinking of something to break the routine, Stiles will waltz in the place, freshly arrived from campus and declare 'Tonight, it's chicken parmesan!'. He'll come back from a run and interrupt Derek's workout to ask him if they have chopsticks, because there's no way he's making green curry beef without them. He'll come out of the shower, head half hidden under the towel he's rubbing on his head and and start polling the betas on pumpkin soup and cheese-garlic biscuits versus lamb vindaloo.

The pack house's kitchen has been officially placed under Stiles command. When he's too busy with exams or spending time away from campus with his dad, Derek swears his betas go into withdrawal. They get so whiny. Oh, granted, he misses the chicken pot pies, and the banana breads. God, and the _stews_. Some are just like his mom used to make. And his upside down cakes are-... Yeah, okay. He misses them _a lot_ ,too. But he doesn't whine. Mostly, because the person he would be complaining about it to is absent.

When Stiles comes back, he never says anything, but he always grins when he finds the fridge fully stocked and the hopeful – not _pleading_ – look in the alpha's eyes, and the rest of the pack begging for him to make something. “Anything but pasta, _please_ _!”_

At first, the pack was suspicious of Stiles' cooking. Of the idea of the food itself – how could a kid like them make something good since they wouldn't put the effort themselves –, and of the occasion – Derek remembers Scott actually asking Stiles if he was dying, hence caring for his friends to try and leave fond memories behind. With time, they came to accept that Stiles simply liked to cook. Granted, he likes eating, and feeding his friends, making people happy and receiving compliments for it. But Derek knows, from watching him being in complete control in the kitchen, serene in his element, that it's _cooking_ that Stiles truly enjoys. And the quiches, butterscotch brownies, cheesecakes and brunch muffins conquered everyone pretty quick. Jackson stopped looking at his plate like he couldn't believe it was edible. Allison and Isaac started to order in, challenging Stiles to pull off things they wanted to eat. For his birthday, Isaac and Scott even got everyone to chip in to offer Stiles a custom made boxing style champion's belt with a chef's hat on it.

A year in the running, it's a completely natural gesture for Derek to plop down next to Stiles over breakfast on Mondays and write down the list of whatever Stiles requests without question. He hopes this can last forever. He knows, objectively, that they're all growing up, and that one day Scott and Allison will decide to go off to make a family of their own, that they will get jobs and houses and mortgages and normal lives. Sharing one big house was weird enough when it was the Hale extended _family_ . Jackson made it clear they were neither in Friends nor in Charmed.

So Derek focuses on the present and tries to appreciate it at its true value. For now he has a full house and a pack by his side. And, bonus of all bonuses, a personal chef. “Can I help?” he says, surveying the supplies Stiles has arranged on the counter and table. What he'll use to make the stir fry, the roast, ready to be put in the oven, and the ingredients for the crumble. Kiwi-raspberry? Jesus.

Stiles places a knife by the cutting board near the veggies. “Mince?”

“You got it.”

He waits his turn while Stiles washes his hands. When Stiles cooks, he's usually pretty quiet. The way he zeroes in on the task and zones out for hours is fascinating to abserve. Derek usually puts on the radio quietly – Erica made fun of him for listening to NPR and called him Papa until he made her sit down for Wait, Wait... Don't tell me! –, listening as he works, but he's pretty sure Stiles tunes it out completely. “You wash your hands like a surgeon.” He remarks, unaware he's speaking aloud until he hears the words. Stiles glances at him quizzically. “My mom,” he explains. “She was a doctor. A pediatrician. She... she got that from med school. My dad used to say that to her.”

Stiles nods and smiles, considering the way he's scrubbing carefully, halfway up his forearms. Then he begins to _smirk_ , and Derek frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stiles keeps grinning, shaking his hands and grabbing a towel.

“Stiles...”

“You _shared_.” Stiles beams. “You just... You told me something personal.”

Huh. “Shut up.”

Stiles whips the towel at his legs. “You shut up. I'm basking.”

“I regret ever letting you into this house.”

He really, really doesn't. The twinkle in Stiles' eyes says he knows it, too. 


End file.
